I’m a knitter, spinner, and fearless warrior in the coming Zombie Apocalypse. What can I say? I multi-task...

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Please Come Get Them

I know you were all just trying to be nice. It was very generous of you to think of me. And I hate to sound ungrateful...but I simply can't accept.

What I don't understand is how you did it. All I did was go to the grocery store. This was a truly masterful use of time and must have taken incredible coordination on your parts! Kudos! Well done!

Now come and get them. You know what I mean. Don't look all innocent. You know you left the fifty seven cats in my kitchen. I came back from the grocery shopping and they were everywhere!

Sure. To some people it may have looked like only two. But I know what two cats are like. They are most certainly not capable of interfering to the degree that the fifty seven were. It takes more than two cats to create that level of chaos. I suppose it is possible that my new policy of only grocery shopping once per month to keep the impulse buying to a minimum made the whole thing more exciting for the resident felines. But I still don't think that explains it all.

There was a gi-normous orange kitty leaping from the floor and into the freezer in one mighty bound. There was a black and white kitty twining around my legs bellowing for treats. Before I could even deal with the kitty in the freezer, his twin was suddenly in the bag with the eggs and I couldn't see how that would end well. Fortunately, by the time I got back to the freezer, the Popsicle Kitty had disappeared. Meanwhile, the black and white brigade had somehow managed to topple the bag containing the soda and I had to go deal with that before the poor thing set off some sort of carbonated explosion and rocketed into space. No sooner had I extricated black and white #1, than I saw similar kitty tossing kibble from her bowl and scattering it all over the floor for me to crunch across while trying to get the frozen food taken care of before that wily orange beast noticed that the freezer was open again. I was then distracted by a rustling sound and turned in time to watch one of the few plastic bags I'd needed from the store traveling into the living room under the paws of another one of those orange kitties. He must have been hiding in a cupboard or something. As of this writing, I have yet to locate that bag.

Frankly, it's a miracle that I got anything put away at all. Or that I didn't step on one of those fifty seven cats since at least twelve of them were underfoot at any given time during this process. Please come get your cats. I don't need this many. I could barely manage the two I had. Please, I beg of you. Come and get them before I have to shop again. I don't think I can take another morning of this...

I think I'd prefer to have pandas. They sleep a lot. Although today's viewing of The Panda Cam revealed a very, very active panda. It's a good thing that whomever is in charge of the web cam on Thursdays is more dedicated to following along. Otherwise, I'd have missed The Great Panda Romp:

The camera followed him all around the enclosure before he settled in the genuine, imitation Panda Tree. He wasn't there long, though. He soon took off for another race around Panda Land. Maybe I should rethink the panda pet idea. A panda in the freezer would probably be way worse than an Absurdly Gi-normous Kitty sneaking an ice cream sandwich...

Between the romping panda and all those invading cats I was simply exhausted. I barely knit a stitch. Just a couple of rows and I was done for. I didn't even dare to go get any ice cream for fear that one of those big, orange kitties would leap back into the freezer before I could position myself for a body block. You have to come and take all these cats back. I don't even think I have enough food for all of them.

About Me

I am a forty-something fiber-freak living in the wilds of Maine. My goals in life include: ridding my home of knitting UFOs, inventing an intraveneous coffee drip and growing old to become the crazy cat lady on my street. You know the one: 10-45 cats, nobody ever really gets a good look at her, just that fleeting glimpse as she screams at the neighborhood children to get off her lawn and about whom local legends abound.